The longest post in the history of infertile whining.

So it seems I've gotten a little bit behind! My most sincere apologies.

I had my retrieval on Tuesday, and it went pretty well.

We started off by meeting with one of the nurses, who taught us how to do the Progesterone in Oil shot. Call me crazy, but this does not look like good times. Leave with my giant bag o' giant needles and head back to the operating area to get ready for the retrieval.

I get back to the room, get nekked under my lovely gown, and begin answering a million questions. While answering questions, a nice nurse comes over and says, "I'm going to get your IV in while you're finishing up with these questions."
I'm forever having problems with IVs. What can I say? I'm a delicate flower. Here is a recap:


Nice Nurse: OK, Jen, I'm just going to try to find a vein here. So let your arm hang down and make a tight fist.

Jen: You should know, I'm kind of a passer-outer.

Nice Nurse: No big deal. Keep making that fist...just don't punch me!

Jen: I'm not making any promises.

Nice Nurse: *laughs* (she was so innocent)

Nice Nurse: I'm going to try your hand here...

Jen: Oh, shit.

Nice Nurse: Hmm...this doesn't seem to be working. Hmm...OK, I'm wussing out.

Jen: Oh, shit.

Eventually it was all OK, and the anesthesiologist had to come and save the day.

After that it gets blurry. I went back into the OR, verified my name for the embryologist, and lay down on this crazy table where your arms are out to the sides and your legs are in these giant padded stirrup torture device things. The last thing I remember saying is, "I'm having trouble focusing." (No shit, dumbass, you're drugged.)

As you know, we got 13 eggs. If I'm being honest with you? I was kind of disappointed and thought it would be way more. But I suppose beggers can't be choosers, and I suppose I'm being a greedy whore. An honest greedy whore.

When I woke up I felt fine and was ready to get home and get some sleep. First I ate some Burger King, because yum.

The next two days, we found out that we made 9 embryos, and they looked great. On Thursday I got the call saying that we would be doing a day 3 transfer for Friday.

I was really excited about the transfer, until I started to mentally torture myself over why I wasn't doing a 5 day transfer. Were my embryos not strong enough to go to blast? Was this just a shot in hell at this point? Am I being set up for a major disappointment?

It really sucked, because since IVF started, I've felt good. I've not been focused on getting pregnant, which sounds crazy. I was taking shots, yes. But it just felt like something I was doing. I felt really disconnected from the entire process - going through the motions, doing what I had to do, suffering through the side effects. It was fine.

But after the retrieval when I knew we had embryos, it felt more real and I started to feel invested. So when I made the mistake of googling "Day 3 vs. Day 5 Transfer" I was in for a ton of unnecessary worrying and turmoil. And anxiety. And just general bitterness that I've been keeping tamped down and not showing anyone.

At the transfer, we found out that we had four perfect 8 cell embryos - two to transfer and two already in the cooler (our possible fututre babycicles). Five more are playing in the lab and if they reach blast, they will go to freeze.

The reasoning, according to the doctor, for the 3 day opposed to the 5 day - we had 4 that were clearly the strongest and didn't need to wait to go to blast because they were perfect. They already knew. The others were still developing well, but they were not the strongest and they needed to wait until day 5 to see if they were going to make it to freeze.

Day 3 does not = gloom and doom, apparently. I was assured by the doctor, the embryologist, and the nurse that the embryos looked great.

I got to see the embryos on a big screen, and got to watch the catheter place them in my uterus. It was so amazing. We got pictures of the embryos, and of the catheter. We also got the petri dish. But I don't know if I'm into the petri dish thing...it seems weird. "Hey kids! This was your first crib!"

After the transfer I was put in my room and told to wait 20 minutes then get up and go pee. Now, this was scary to me because I was hurting really bad, and the prospect of waiting 20 more minutes to pee made me want to pee my pants, but I couldn't pee my pants for obvious reasons.

I waited 15, then absolutely had to get up. I was having really bad stabbing pains in my bladder. My bladder was so full that I couldn't sit up, and Mark had to pull me up like Frankenstein. I ran down to the bathroom and sat on the toilet, expecting sweet relief.

Nothing....

I couldn't pee! I couldn't pee at all. I started to cry. It was embarrassing. Finally, a little bit came out and then I was completely nauseated and had to run back to the room and lay down. The nurse came in to scold me for getting up before my 20 minutes, and saw that I was crying and decided to take pity and get me some cool towels for my head.

A few minutes later, I tried to pee again. A little more, but mostly just pain. I kept telling the nurses, and I was getting looks. Looks like, "Welp, we've got a crybaby here who is nervous about the transfer."

Looks like they weren't realizing that FREDDY KRUGER was stabbing my bladder, and Edward Scissorhands had just left, and I couldn't give a shit about my embryos at this point because I would never pee again and would die from bladder-related complications. Fuck.

I was so pissed (heh...) that I went back to my room and started to get dressed, because if I had to be in pain and cry, I wanted to do it at my house. I couldn't stand up straight without having knife pains in my bladder while still feeling like my bladder was overfull.

I was half hunched over, walking down to the bathroom again when I think they finally realized that yes, I was in pain, and no, I wasn't just anxious or nervous. The doctor said that I was probably having bladder spasms, and that I needed to let them put in a catheter or I would end up in the ER.

10 minutes and one catheter later, I was lighter a few ounces of pee, but still in pain. Again, I decided to give up and go home. I was told to take two Tylenol 3 and relax.

I was in severe pain all night. I did feel better when I woke up this morning. And I didn't want to write about this, because it's all so negative. And the transfer is supposed to be positive and exciting! And it was, sort of.

Today I feel good. I'm definitely enjoying the bedrest!

More positive posts to come (probably)...I promise (sort of).